


Strawberry Moans

by MatildaSwan



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: Community: sanctuary_bingo, Dom/sub, Exhibitionism, F/F, Femslash, Fruit, Kink, Marking, Masturbation, Semi-Public Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-13
Updated: 2012-05-13
Packaged: 2017-11-05 06:31:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/403417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MatildaSwan/pseuds/MatildaSwan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She moaned, as if that strawberry were a vibrator for her mouth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strawberry Moans

**Author's Note:**

  * For [windandthestars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/windandthestars/gifts).



> Warnings for like, everything; see tags. This started out as a drabble about eating fruit and evolved into complete filth and the longest thing I've ever written. My brain is a strange place to inhabit.

Kate overlooked the party from her carefully chosen vantage point: behind the buffet table, along the wall; a few feet away from the door. She’d been to enough of these shindigs to know preparing for a quick exit was a smart move; you never knew when a hasty escape would be in order, especially for the reasons she attended this meet and greets. From the wall, Kate could keep an eye on everything happening around her; and having the dessert table within reach was a plus. It meant she could grab a lemon tart and stuff her face if anyone tried to strike up a conversation. Apparently, having syrup cling to your chin while you spat crumbs all over a three hundred dollar tie was a real turn off. Some people were just way too uptight for Kate’s taste; though thankfully no one has made any advances on her.

Kate huffed as she leant against that wall and checked her watch. T-minus 23 minutes until her portion of the mission was a go; she could probably hold out on dying of boredom until them. The mindless dribble swirling around her was starting to fry her brain. Phony business propositions, fake promises and contacts details that would never be used were flying through her ears left, right, and centre. Everyone here _knew_ they were full of it, but business parties still happened. Kate would never understand these types of people; she didn’t know how Helen managed it either, mingling with so much BS. It must have something to do with the whole British thing; that was Kate’s current theory anyway. 

Kate took a few steps towards the other end of the table, where a glazed triple chocolate cake was calling her name and checked her watch again; T-minus 20. Not that she was counting down or anything: an hour and a quarter until she would be home; clean, warm and in bed.

 _Provided everything goes according to plan,_ she thought as she picked up the weird looking knife next to the cake and hewed into it, breaking the coating with a satisfying crunch. With her track record, that time could be an outside estimate or just a hopeful dream. _At least bed is a definite,_ she smiled as she bit into the cake, smearing chocolate over her lips in the process; if it’s not Magnus will never hear the end of it.

A head of brunette curls moved towards the table with a swish of black silk and caught Kate’s eye. _Speak of the Devil;_ Magnus smirked, softening her posture as her cover slipped slightly; glanced at her watch and back up at Kate, before turning half of her attention to the table in front of her. Their story was Kate was some sort of foreign exchange intern that barely spoke English, so no one would be tight lipped around her. They’d smuggled her in under the proviso that everyone would assume she was with someone else. Hence the lack of people trying to talk to her, although Kate had thought as least _someone_ would attempt to try it on. The lack of language also meant that Magnus couldn’t talk to Kate either, so they were reduced to eye signals and interpretation. 

Kate took another bite of cake and attempted to subtly note her watch; 17 minutes till Kate had to slip out and down the corridor, disable the alarm system, subdue the first lot of guards, and rewire the security cameras. All before Magnus joined her in 21 with the passcode to the enclosure housing their objective; some sort of unpronounceable Abnormal, which Kate imagined had scales and a tail. Sort of like an Axolotl with spikes, and maybe some feathers. Kate smiled at the image in her mind; the little critter sounded interesting. She hoped the real thing, a trock-lo-do-flow-go-phile or something along those lines, was as cool. 

Kate giggled inside her head as she smeared more chocolate over her face; she’s never been the neatest of eaters. Magnus caught Kate’s eye again, giving a curt nod and making sure they were synced as her eyes fluttered over Kate’s face, pausing at her lips before sliding back into her cover. 

Helen skimmed her hand over the table, shifting between pointed in indecision and poised to grab; humming as she waggled her fingers over the desserts and stepped along the table. Kate couldn’t help but follow, as nonchalantly as possible. Images of what those hands could do flittered through her mind and a shiver went from the base of her spine and curled around to her spleen. Kate shoved what remained of the cake into her mouth, hoping to distract herself from the urge to do the same to the woman in front of her, and inhaled a chunk.

Kate wacked the bone between her fist and her heart as she coughed her guts up; she could feel people looking at her and knew she was drawing far too many eyes her way. She grabbed a glass of something from a passing waiter and downed half of its content before realising it was alcoholic. It fixed the almost dying bit, but booze on a heist was never good. She knew half a glass wouldn’t noticeable affect her until things where critical, when it was too late to do anything but swear and wait for your team to fix it. 

_Damn it! Nice one, dude._

Kate looked back toward Magnus, ready to send the quickest _I may have just buggered things completely_ apology face ever performed, to find the older woman was still looking down at the table. Helen hadn’t seemed to have noticed Kate’s near death experience by cake; she was too transfixed on the choices before her. Even over the now slowing pound of her own heart, Kate could practically hear the cogs in the other woman’s mind whirling; contemplating what to eat first. Weighing up the benefits of fructose verses sucrose; accessing the damage a fallen bit of cream could do to the black gripping her body.  
Kate knew Magnus always ate lightly when on a mission out in public; just in case. She knew Helen would chose something from the fruit platter eventually, but Kate saw the gleam in her eye when she passed over the black forest cake. Helen huffed, as if to say ‘a girl can dream, can’t she’, before pausing at the tray covered with what appeared to be every colour that existed in nature. 

Her fingers danced through the air again; passing over the pineapple and rockmelon, before plucking a grape from the steam and popping it in her mouth. Helen smiled as she chewed; juice gathering at the corners of her mouth and Kate was torn. Between staring at Helen’s ears as they wiggled with her jaw, back and forward with each bite; and the urge to jump over the table and lick Helen’s dimples, along with the rest of the brunette’s body. 

Of course the latter would probably blow their cover, or draw unwanted attention to them, or some other pointless reason that Magnus would badger Kate about later; after Kate’d had her way with her boss. So she stuck with staring at the junction of Magnus’ jaw, as the curve shifted and her earrings swang in unison. Some things were worth the wait, and some things weren’t worth the headache; either of those kept Kate from throwing herself across the plethora of caramel and cream, and lathering Magnus’ body with them. 

_Focus Freelander; things go hinky when you’re distracted on the job._

Kate attempted to replace her current train of thought with more appropriate, work related things to keep her mind in the game. Of course, that just opened up a whole other can of worms. Images of Magnus in nothing but a garter belt, stocking, and a bowtie bent over her desk rushed to the forefront of her mind. Kate shift uncomfortably from foot to foot and almost fell and broke her ankle, before making a not graceful save. Kate grinned sheepishly at the vaguely concerned people who’d made a move towards her, and waved her wine glass. Let them think she was drunk; it was easier that way. 

They might have been tiny compared to Magnus’ six inch cigarette heels, but her shoes were more than a handful for Kate to manage. She couldn’t wait for her chance to slip away and get out of the damn things. She checked her watch, six minutes; everything was running smoothly. 

Expect now Helen had picked up a strawberry from the sea of colours and was looking at it like a guy would an oasis in the middle of the desert. One with naked woman and cable; where the water was actually beer. 

Manicured fingers pushed it past lips and Helen bit into it with a moan. Not a _oh, that was nice_ moan; a proper, guttural, sex on legs with a martini and a smoke moan that came from deep, deep in her throat. As if that strawberry was a vibrator for her mouth.  
 _Oh, God; she didn’t?!_

Kate was in trouble. Magnus smirked, juice catching creases of her cheeks. She swallowed, pursed shining lips: flicked her tongue out to capture what juice was left, savouring the taste; before scraping her teeth over her bottom lip. She opened her eyes and pinned Kate with a stare that could melt a meteor and smiled.  
 _Shit, she did._

All reasonable thought Kate exited via the left ear canal. She followed the path of the strawberry, down along the throat, between those collarbones and behind the breastbone. She paused. Ruffles rested over the top of Helen’s breasts, covering without concealing; dark and light patches created by the material patterned the barely freckled flesh. The dress layered under the bust, gathered at the waist to flair out over her hips and draped to the floor, swirling around Helen’s feet like wind. 

Helen the heiress, soon-to-inherited-her-father’s-fortune, looked stunning; dress hugging her _everything,_ curls falling across her shoulders, and Kate knew she wasn’t the only person staring. Especially after the sounds she had just made. Kate was, however, the only person Helen was fucking with her eyes.  
Men scattered about the room had been stealing glances at the brunette’s curves all evening, it was one of the first things Kate had noted when she’d starting sizing up the joint. Along with the quite a few woman too, though they were far more subtle about staring. Kate was certain some, if not all, of the ones still looking would notice the sparks flying off Magnus. This could be a problem; they needed to go unnoticed, not draw attention to themselves and Kate had exactly…no minutes until her scheduled departure. By a _lot_ of other minutes. 

_Shit! Shit, shit, shit, shit! Shitballs, asshat, megacrap. Bad, bad, bad; this is very bad._

Kate downed the rest of her drink; she’d already buggered up, it can’t hurt much more, and sent her best pleading eyes to Magnus, praying the older woman would look at her watch. She’d missed her cue, and what the hell was their plan B anyway?

Helen simply widened her smirk, and walked along the table, turning her attention to the chocolate dessert as she skimmed the ended of the wood, followed the corner and strutted back up the length with a caramel tart in her hand. 

“Vous en voulez une part?” Helen was practically oozing seduction at this point; why she needed to add French, Kate didn’t understand. Until she remembered she wasn’t meant to speak English.

“Oui, s'il vous plait,“ Kate stammered out, while playing her best impression of coy. Apparently she was French now; she could work with that, as long as no one called her out on her accent. 

“Suivez-moi,” Helen purred as she slipped her arm into Kate’s and strutted out the door. 

Kate could feel the eye piercing her back long after it passed through the door. She kitten stepped alongside Helen’s precise strides down the corridor, struggling to keep up and keep her brain functioning at the same time.

As soon as they were around a corner, deeper into the maze of the mansion and safely out of ear shot, Helen slipped back into Magnus. “Oh, Lord that was tedious. Let’s get this mission over with so I can…”

Her words got lost as Kate slammed her to the wall, eye to eye as she held Magnus by the arms. The tart fell from her fingers. Black billowed around them both, as her dress parted at the thigh. Kate’s eyes raked over Helen, following the lines of the gowns she’d admired earlier, and the contours she wanted to rip free. Helen lost her shoe; the carpet was thick beneath her foot. Caramel landed on her thigh and then fell to the ground. The drapes were a hideous shade of maroon. 

Kate smashed against Helen; hips and ribs and teeth and tongue. Lips were what got them into this; they deserved to be ignored. “You do not…” both moaned as Kate wormed her legs between Helen’s. Kate froze; her eyes flashed as her grip tightened.

“Stay silent,” it was an order. Yes: nod yes; oh, yes _please_. Kate leaned in again, fingers less bruising but still in the wrong place. 

“You do _not_ …“ Kate whispered against the curve of Helen’s jaw, licking her lobe; brushing Helen’s centre before pulling away, her knee just out of reach. Kate ran her fingers through the syrup on Helen’s leg. Coated fingers, a treat for Helen; coated thigh, a treat for Kate. “Get to do that to me,” she sank to her knees: licked it clean, would have lapped till she tasted bone if she could. She stood again, slid her hands along Helen’s arms; gripped her again, She hadn’t move; good girl. _My good girl._

“Not in public.” 

She dragged her teeth down Helen’s neck, along the artery, scraping it as she followed the path to her lover’s heart. She could feel Helen’s pulse with her tongue; want, desire, passion, love. Not fear; never fear. Her unvoiced moans, capture by a curled tongue and swallowed again; bubbling in her throat, seeping into her bloodstream. The tiny flickering of pain, at the very edge of her memory, lust making her mind worse than a goldfish. Kate could _feel_ all of it, taste everything on her skin; she was drinking it in, drinking her in; drinking them in. 

“Not where I can’t do this to you.”

Kate let go of Helen’s right arm: lines around Helen’s brow a mixture of pain and pleasure. Paper cuts and tummy rubs; hot tea and fading bruises. Buried her hand in her hair and pulled. Eyes rolled back in their sockets: Magnus moaned; cut herself off halfway. Silent, quiet: _for Kate._

 _Her strawberry moan;_ Kate relaxed her left. _Solid and juicy and leaves your mouth watering._ Stroked her hair, wrapped her fingers in the nap of her neck. Nuzzled her jugular, lips on her skin. _Love this so much._

“There, that! You don’t get to make that sound when I’m not allowed to touch you,” Kate shifted her thigh; Helen’s mouth fell open as she swallowed her moan again. “Understand?” Twisting her hips, pushing Helen into the wall; she wanted to leave a mark on this place. Leave their scent in the air and their silhouette in the shadows. Kate’s right tightened, fingers biting into defined muscle. She was leaving bruises, she knew. So did Helen. Neither of them cared. Dance along a blade at your own peril; fall either side, or be slit down the middle. 

Magnus nodded. Kate smiled. Let go of Helen’s arms and ran her fingers Helen over her triceps. Helen shivered, withdraw with a smile; tickle and she giggled. Down along the sides of her breast, undervalued and overlooked; save those for special occasions. Along the indent of her waist; so small and pinched, her hips; curved and firm. Hands and eyes tracing her outline: fingertips reading the brail of Magnus’ body; Kate knew this story by heart, but never well enough. Not for her satisfaction. 

Down to her knees and up again, dragging what little material covered her lower half up over her hips. Kate’s fingers left goose flesh behind on Helen’s, scorched hand prints on her waist as they smiled into each other’s neck. Revelling in each other’s presence; bodies pressed together so tightly they could share skin.  
They kissed, slow and gently, full pouts and tongues; pouring love from one mouth to another, and back. Kate pulled away and lapped and Helen’s mouth, grabbing her top lip and tugging. She trailed burns down Helen’s chest; mouth so hot she scalded. She buried her face in Helen’s flesh; so much to taste, to touch, to mark. Kate wanted her fingerprints all over Helen’s body. She wanted her finger prints inside Helen’s mind.

Kate pulled back, gleam in her eye and steel in her veins. 

“Fuck yourself in front me.”

Helen gaped and blushed. Not at the concept or the deed, she would be happy with a feather along her back right now; even the gentlest touch would make her see blackness. She flushed for the implications. 

“Yes. Now. Here. In this corridor,” Kate could read her so well. “Where anyone could see you; actually find you if they came looking for you.”

Helen tried to steel herself, she normally had more warning with exhibitionism, as Kate turned her back and strode to the nearest chair. She dragged it back, along with the table a few feet away from Magnus. 

“Leg up, darling,” Kate gestured to the table. “You made a spectacle of yourself for a crowd of strangers; now put on a show just for me.” She turned and plonked down into the arm chair and got comfortable. Kate was right, Helen _had_ made a spectacle of herself before; why shouldn’t she now.  
Magnus kicked off her other shoe and inhaled as her hand crept up her thigh. She recalled a memory from a few weeks ago, focusing on the feeling of Kate’s fingers in her cunt as they ravished each other. They’d just gotten back from a week long haul, still covered in sweat and grim. So full of need they didn’t even make it to Helen’s office, and fucked on the window seat in the North Wing. The moon streamed in through the window, tickling their skin and blanketing them in comfort. Kate has sung as she came, high pitched and beautiful; simply _glowing_ her climax. Helen exhaled as she brushed against her clit; the material of her panties adding an extra layer of pressure. She felt her own dampness and swallowed a moan; Kate hadn’t said she could. Her eyes fluttered shut as she remember the way Kate had rubbed her raw on the carpet when a voice broke through the memory 

“No, no; eye’s open. You’re fucking yourself for me. I want to see you. All of you.”

Helen forced her eyes to open, wiggled one leg out of her knickers and bared herself, fingering her cunt for Kate to see. Everything was blurry and unfocused to her eyes. But to body: her skin, her muscles, her capillaries; the whole world was so bright it hurt. She was white heat and it was exquisite. She ran her nails down her stomach and felt herself tighten around her fingers. She could do that again and come; shatter as she closed her eyes and be whole again when she opened them. 

Except she wanted to saviour this, her nerve ending on fire, the thrill of her lover watching; she needed a distraction. Her hand stopped; her eyes fluttered around the corridor, trying to focus again and find something to help slow down time. Wallpaper patterning, the fold of the drapes at her side, bits of mould along the ceiling. The painting above Kate’s head was an interesting example of chiaroscuro. She breathed, deeply and slowly, and her fingers followed suit. She was there, on the brink and it was beautiful. 

Then she looked at Kate and she was flying. 

Helen clenched around her hand; so wet and warm and tight. She bit her lip as she ground against the heel of her hand: her pubic hair tickling her palm as she rode it for all she was worth; the extra pressure against her pelvis somehow reassuring. As if feeling her bones would keep her from exploding into a million pieces; leaving behind a jigsaw for Kate to put back together. To stop her from simply floating away from a body she no longer fitted. 

Through the euphoria, Helen kept her eyes open and her mouth shut: kept her eyes glued to Kate; shining blue, dark and so bright and _full_. All for her, all for Helen; she knew she was crying and she didn’t care. Her legs buckled and fell; down and into Kate’s arm. 

Helen followed the echoes of ‘gorgeous Helen, my Helen’ until the blackness subsided and she was warm and safe in her lover’s arm. Her hand was still buried inside her, and her cheeks were sticky with tears; but she was content. Her skirt was now a blanket for the two of them; Kate’s back resting against the wall as they both lay on the floor. They lay there for a few minutes, until the feeling returned to Helen’s legs. She shifted, pulling away from Kate; wincing as she reclaimed her hand and wiped it on the inside of her dress. She dragged her knickers back up, fixed the bust of her clothing, primped her hair and turned back to the wall. She caught Kate’s eye and they smiled; warm and happy and loving.

Helen crawled across the foot and a half to Kate’s still grinning lips, stopped short and stared at them. Still tingling, Magnus could feel the blood rushing through Kate’s lips, her cheeks and her tongue. She could _feel_ the blood moving through her the younger woman’s body; the lust, the anticipation, the adoration. Helen could feel it, all of it; feel all of _them._

“Mine,” Kate whispered her eyes flickering with so much as she locked gazes with Magnus. 

“And mine,” Helen promised; sealed with a kiss, as she reached down and fucked Kate on the floor.

The mission could wait; most plans are like guidelines anyway.


End file.
